“Cousin, thou must yield! I implore thee, be not foolhardy!”
“Ye would be wise to listen to your cousin,” Simon said. “I will give ye one minute, and then I will strike home.”
“Thus you seal your own doom!” she cried. “Once I am sped, there are ten men ready to fall upon thee!”
“It matters not,” Simon said. “If I die no Frenchman will live in this town by sunrise tomorrow. The minute passes, madame. Think well.”
“Cousin, thou art distraught! I stand as regent during thy madness. Is there a man here will refuse to recognise me as lord?”
A low murmur of approval went up.
“Then I submit, milor’, in the name of the Countess Margaret.”
The Countess lashed round in her chair.
“Ah, never!” she cried, and would have flung herself upon Simon’s sword, had he not drawn it swiftly back. He bowed slightly to the Chevalier.
“Ye do swear before God to offer no violence nor obstruction either now, or later?”
The Chevalier was biting his nails, seeking feverishly for some outlet. He sent Simon a look of hatred.
“I swear before God to offer no violence nor obstruction now or later.”
“And for thy men?”
“And for my men.”
“Good.” Simon jerked the Countess to her feet. “Ye will lead me now, madame, to Sir Alan of Montlice. These gentlemen will go before.”
“Milor’!” The Chevalier was livid with rage. “Is that necessary? Unhand my cousin! You have mine oath!”
“I would sooner have thy cousin, for thus shall I also have thine oath,” Simon answered.
The Chevalier quivered with outraged dignity.
“It seems ye trust us not, sir!”
The green-blue eyes narrowed.
“Fair sir, were I a fool, then should I trust to your word. I am not a fool.”
The Chevalier’s hand flew to his sword-hilt.
“Ye shall answer to me for that insult!” he choked.
Simon spoke sternly.
“When I entered this place, sir, I entered it alone, as the Countess desired, under the laws of truce. Those were her words. But once within these portals it pleased the Countess, and ye all, to forget the laws of truce. Ye did threaten me with violence, who had come to treat. I fight clean, sir, when I may, but I choose my foe’s weapons, and when the foe seeks to fight me foully, why, then, the time for chivalry is past. Lead on, Sir Chevalier.”
The Chevalier went blindly to the door, and the courtiers followed him, one by one. Last of all came Simon, holding the Countess a little before him. She struggled once, striking up at his face with her free hand, but Simon forced her onward. She went proudly then, her head held high, carrying herself with queenly dignity, her skirts sweeping behind her.
Out into the great hall they went, past startled menials, to the narrow stairway. The Countess went forward, for two could not walk abreast, and Simon had released her. Up they went to a room in the tower. There Simon took her wrist in his hold again, and as she winced, loosened his clasp a little.
Alan lay upon a couch beneath the narrow window; he was resting on his elbow, and his head was supported in his hand. A bandage crossed his forehead, and one arm was in a sling. He glanced up as the cavalcade came in, and his lips set firmly.
“So my Lord of Beauvallet would not yield?” he said faintly. “Ye were all so certain!” He laughed, and withal his weakness there was a ring of pride in his voice. “Beauvallet is made of sterner stuff, and well he knows that life to me, under thy conditions, is disgrace!”
Then Simon clanked in, and Alan gave a great start.
“Simon!” A look of horror came into his wan face. “Ah, no, Simon! Not thou! Death were easier!”
“Didst thou think that I would leave thee to die?” Simon asked him gently. “I hold this castle—alone.”
Alan sank back against his pillows. A laugh shook him.
“Oh, thou indomitable one!” he chuckled. “I doubted thee not until this moment! Geoffrey is safe?”
“Ah. I came but to see that thou wert alive, and well-tended. I go now, and the Lady Margaret goes with me, as hostage for thy safety.”
“Ah no, by God!” the Chevalier exploded. “Would ye put my cousin to this shame?”
“Oh, brave to war on women!” the Countess snapped. “Do with me as ye will, but take heed lest I strike thee one day when thou art grown careless! Thou shalt pay in full, I swear!”
“Whither go ye, Simon lad?” Alan asked.
“To Malvallet. If I return not, he will sack the town. I shall come again with my men, never fear. Thou art safe, for if harm befall thee, the Lady Margaret dies by my sword.”
The Countess drew herself up. Her bosom rose and fell quickly. Full into Simon’s eyes she looked, her own blazing with anger.
“I will not rest until I have avenged myself,” she said very quietly. “Thou English beast!”
V
How He Brought the Lady Margaret to the Justice-House
Through the streets of Belrémy, past staring townsfolk and saluting men-at-arms, Simon rode, a veiled and cloaked lady on a white palfrey beside him, sitting very upright in her saddle. Behind came Edmund with another lady, veiled also, and speaking never a word. To the justice-house they went, walking sedately, and there dismounted.
Out came Malvallet, armour-clad but bareheaded, his dark eyes eager.
“God be thanked, Simon!” he said fervently. Then he saw the tall woman beside Simon, and stepped back a pace. “What’s to do now, lad?”
Simon did not answer him, for the guard-men were eyeing him cautiously. He bowed stiffly to his charge.
“Enter, madame.”
Marvelling, and all perplexed, Malvallet stood aside to let the lady pass. She swept by him, into the lofty hall where Simon transacted all his affairs, and where sat Bernard of Talmayne, busily writing. Bernard stood up, astonished at the sudden entrance of two ladies in the company of
